


In the Time of Kings

by Braggsticks



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braggsticks/pseuds/Braggsticks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Mogar now sits atop the throne in the kingdom, but something about him wasn’t right. He was no longer Michael, no longer Sir Gavino’s friend and the young knight couldn’t explain why. Whatever had happened after placing that crown on his head had changed him forever and now with the Tournament upon them once more it is up to the newly appointed Jester to fix his friend before it’s too late, but will something more mad and disturbed stop him before he can?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

                        “King Mogar,” it sounded bitter and strange on the young knight’s tongue, like taboo almost. He wanted to coil it back in and never say it again; to pretend that it was still months prior when the idea of being King was just a thought to them both. A thought that they laughed and joked about, a thought that was now suddenly a nightmare. Ray had been their friend too, he hadn’t let the power go to his head…he had been a great king…the _Best_ King. But Mich— _No_ —Mogar had cut him down when the tournament had ended. He had removed the golden crown from the man’s head and placed it upon his own without a second thought. Sir Gavino had watched the whole thing in silence, in shock…in terror. One second they were doing as they were told with jokes, following after every step, and then the next the warrior was staining the throne with blood.

            Gavin blamed the Mad King for it. Ever since Ryan’s reign as King nothing had been the same with Mich—Mogar. With Mogar. _It was Mogar, not Michael._

            “Goddammit,” Gavin’s accent rang out in the small barracks, head falling into his leather gloved hands. He couldn’t sort out his own thoughts, he couldn’t come to terms with any of it. And now he’d have to face the very man he’d grown close to over the years, a man now changed by staining his family’s sword. He didn’t think he could do it; it was one thing to see Ray on the throne, but Mogar…it was so different.

            “You okay there?” Gavin lifted his head to see who had spoken and he had to do everything in his power not to wince at the sight of the once great king.

            Geoffrey, the First King, the drunkard; the man who had been the first to lead the tournaments lost his glory years ago after the Mad King dethroned him. Now he was nothing more than a mortal drunk with a certain shadow about him; but that wasn’t what made the young knight flinch. No. It was his face. The ruggedly looking knight stood before him in his worn dark green armor with a bandage wrapped around the top of his head to cover his left eye; the white fabric stained red from a wound that seemed to never heal correctly despite the high court’s healer mending to it for weeks after his fall. Sir Geoffrey had fallen the most out of the three Kings and it showed greatly with each passing day…almost as if without the crown he was turning into a soulless being.

            He was staring at the knight now, his solemn look still waiting for a response. He didn’t get to hear it from him though because another answered instead, “He’s despising the idea of seeing his precious friend as our new king.”

            Gavin looked over at the knight who had spoken, his brows knitting together with a frown, “That’s not true.”

            The kilted knight turned to face the two; hands working to attach the red and black cape to his shoulder, “Yes it is, kid. You know for a fact that while he sits on that throne your friendship means nothing.”

            “No!” Gavin stood quickly with his words; the force of his movements tossing his green hood back while scarf tails whipped about. He barred his teeth with a glare and curled his hands into fists, “His new status has nothing to do with it! He’s still Michael!”

            “He’s King Mogar, Sir Gavino,” the new voice came from the entrance of the barracks and the group turned to see the heaviest set of the knights with a pickaxe in hand resting over his one armored shoulder, “and you two better stop bickering before we enter the throne room. Rules state that—”

            “That all knights are to enter the throne room in good terms and without argument,” Ryan clipped his belt into place then grabbed his battle axe from off the wall, “I know the rules.” He turned the instrument of murder over in his hands then slipped it onto his back before moving towards the door, he stopped next to Jack with eyes directed outside, “I’m the one who made them.” He slammed his shoulder into the other’s then left the small building not bothering to look back at them.

            There was a long silence amongst the three standing there, but finally Gavin spoke up, “I don’t get it. What the hell happened to him?”

            The two exchanged a look, but Jack turned to walk off leaving the ruined knight to respond with a grim tone, “The crown changes you in more ways than you could ever imagine.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Gavin frowned, but Geoff lifted a hand to drop onto the younger’s shoulder to give it a squeeze before grabbing his sword from off the table.

            “Come on, it’s time,” Geoff sheathed his weapon and left the barracks.

            Gavin stayed frozen in his spot with fists still clenched and teeth showing with a bit back growl. Ryan was right and there was no way to deny it truly either. Gavin had noticed the change in his friend two years ago when the Mad King was on the thrown, but now…now it was even more so. Sure they hadn’t really seen the ruler since he took the throne; the rules stating that the King had eleven months to reign and prepare without the bothered presence of the sons of Royals. Which in other words means that the kingdom goes through many drastic changes in that span of time…nothing had been worse than when Ryan had the crown though, but nothing had been better when Ray was King. Geoff had been focused on his tournament setup that the kingdom went into its own state of survival; Ray had focused greatly on the crops and trading with other kingdoms; Ryan had practically destroyed this kingdom…it was something many had tried to forget. Now with Mogar on the throne it seemed there was always a war on the brink of coming. He was a good King, but he was a bad negotiator.

            “Going to just stand there with that angry look or are we actually going to go see the King?”

            Gavin shook out his head and looked over to where a hall branched off from the left of the room, “What?”

            The most charming of the knights stepped forward with a grin that never seemed to vanish even in the darkest of times, “I said: Are you just going to stand there looking—”

            “Oh, no, yeah,” Gavin turned to grab his leather sheath from off the bench and strapped it to his back; it was the heaviest of his equipment as he chose to not wear armor in favor of light fabrics to move faster. He finished with the strap and looked over at the most recent King, “I was just thinking is all.”

            “Thinking about how Mogar is a different man?” Ray tipped his head with the question, but then fixed the sleeves to pull out more from the armor on his forearms. He looked up to see a nod and he smiled gently, “Don’t.”

            “What do you mean don’t?” Gavin’s face scrunched together, “He clearly is. Have you seen how he’s been ruling?”

            “No,” Ray answered calmly and held up a white gloved hand to silence his friend, “And neither have you.” He stepped closer, a hand resting on the handle of his sword, “We’ve only _heard_ about how he rules and have been living with it…none of us have actually seen it with our own eyes.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Gavin stated.

            Ray snorted softly and turned to walk towards the exit, “And you’ve already said that today. Now let’s go.”

            Gavin hesitated, but then followed after to catch up quickly, his bright eyes flicking to view the movement of the black cape connected by gold chains to Ray’s armor; the red underneath showing every so often with each step. He was definitely the nicest dressed of the knights, but it fit his personality the most and it amazed Gavin that he could still be so charming. Why hadn’t he been affected by the time as king?

            “Don’t listen to Ryan, Gav,” Ray’s voice brought him out of his thoughts again, “He’s just trying to get to you before the tournament.”

            Gavin nodded, eyes slowly drifting from his friend to the large walled off castle in the distance with its blue flags waving gracefully in the wind, “He did a good job of it…”

            Ray stepped a few feet off from him, grabbing a rose from the basket of a maiden who made no protest at the smile given in exchange, “Try not to think about it too much.” He moved closer again and held the flower up above his head to squint at it against the sun’s light, “If you do then you’ll lose and you’ll never be king.”

            “I’m starting to think it’s not really worth it,” Gavin sniffed in, eyes casting downward as he kicked a small stone out of his path.

Ray glanced at him and let out a sigh before carefully placing the rose between his belt and hip, “Look, years ago you would’ve done anything to gain the crown, but ever since Mi—Mogar took over…you’ve changed.”            “He cut you down without a second thought, Ray!” Gavin’s voice pitched slightly and it drew the attention of some of those passing by, but as quickly as they looked they were turning away. The sons of Royals were not to be stared at...no matter how loud they were.

Ray put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and stepped closer to him, dipping his head to speak in a quiet tone, “And _I_ struck Ryan down without blinking my eye—”

“Yes, but he was mad! He went mental with the power! You saved this kingdom!” Gavin was hissing with each word now, trying to keep his voice down as well.

            The knight smiled gently, the action alone calming his friend slightly, “I saved it only to rebuild it and Mogar took my place to rebuild the armies. To place us back on the map as a kingdom which could fight if threatened. I may have fixed what Ryan destroyed, but Mogar has made it better.”

            Gavin licked his lips then shrugged the hand from his shoulder to pick up his pace slightly, “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

            Ray trailed behind a second in delay, thoughts running with what he knew to be true and a lie…but how could he tell the purest souls of the knights?...it was too soon to even consider it.

 

* * *

 

 

                        Stadt der Errungenschaften, like the rest of the world, had fallen greatly from what life used to be; a place once full of striving technology and minds that baffled the nations, but when the century turned over to three thousand those same nations fell apart. A war like no other ripped across the oceans and destroyed most of the population along with all that had been created. Civilization fell back into a world of rulers, a world of Kings. It wasn’t until two hundred years later in Urbem Gesits when Royal Elders changed the laws of ruling by saying that the sons of Royals would be granted a chance at the crown every eleven months.

—Now what needs to be understood about Urbem Gesits is that the kingdom stood alone when the nations waged war and it had governed in a way that no other did by having a circle of Elders decide laws. Its way of governing was frowned upon greatly by those who allied with them; saying that it was reckless and foolish. That is why they made their new law to give the chance to each royal family.—

            At first when the law was passed there was only two sons for the royals to offer up in the tournament and therefore it was overlooked and passed by; the Elders deciding that once a son was bared to each of the royal families the tournament would then be initiated. So they waited and continued to rule with what they had deemed best at the time.

            It took another sixty years before enough of the royals had sons around the same age, _but_ even still a First King was selected by the Elders to rule in the first eleven months. That royal knight was Sir Geoffrey of the family Ramsey due to his elders having being the first founders of Stadt der Errungenschaften when the war broke out. His reign as high ruler was deemed as almost a “trial run”—a term no longer used in such a time—because of his focus on preparing for the tournament, but mostly due to his love for drink. King Geoffrey Ramsey was the drunkard king who made a mess of things despite his time to prepare and ready.

            King Ramsey was struck down by the son of the Haywood Royals. Many had thought it would be for the best; perhaps this sober son would lead Stadt der Errungenschaften into a better year. How very wrong they were. Ryan was deemed the Mad King after his first month on the throne when he placed all those sick in the dungeons of the castle; calling it instead ‘The Hole’. The worst part about it was that those who went into this “hole” never came out again; there were rumors that he experimented on them or had them killed, but no one ever knew for certain. It wasn’t until his third month that the Elders finally stepped in to stop him from his reign…it did no good. The Mad King cut down all but one Elder from each of the Royal Families, placing those still alive into the hole until his reign would be over. Many, many people died during his rule and many more went missing. King Haywood had almost destroyed this kingdom with his madness and the only thing which he respected was the tournament. No one could explain why he still would have it with no Elders to stop him, but some would say it was to watch his once fellow knights run around in death matches to amuse him. He had made plenty of rules for it though, rules that would stay for the following year…but not by his choosing.

            The Mad King was dethroned by the only son of the Narvaez Royals and in doing so the kingdom of Stadt der Errungenschaften was changed once again, but this time for the better. Ray released the Elders from their shackles and in return placed the wounded Mad King below for his actions. Ray was immediately thrown into the shambles of cleaning up a mess that had placed the Kingdom on almost complete destruction; all the while making sure to work out a fate for the Haywood Royal with the Elders. As the months passed and Stadt der Errungenschaften began to return to its once beautiful state; crops growing once more, livestock reproducing, and people no longer hiding within their homes. Ray had been their golden light that saved this Kingdom, but he had never recovered a crucial part of it: The armies. All he had was a small handful of foot soldiers, Calvary men, several archers, and…his four remaining knights of the Royal families. That small amount was one of the reason he released Ryan back into the Kingdom; making the man promise he’d fight in the name of Narvaez and stay true to his knighthood. When the tournament came about he chose his challenges carefully and placed them more into favor where the previous King could not win…he however did not see the animalistic rising of Mogar.

            The son of the Jones Royals, being named Michael, gave himself a new name when his sword was stained with the blood of the Best King. He rose amongst the other knights and in front of the Elders, shouting to the heavens, “ _I am King Mogar and you shall all kneel before me.”_ And so they did. They knelt before their new King as he retrieved the crown from the pool of blood and all but one of them kept their eyes on the floor. Sir Gavino of the Free Royals had watched with horror as the man he fought alongside for years placed that bleeding crown upon his head and he had watched as the ravenous warrior licked away the specs on his face. That day, that _moment_ of when the crown touched his head…Sir Michael had died and King Mogar had been born. Or at least that’s what they had all thought. Mogar’s reign as King proved to be useful in rebuilding of their armies and though he was posed with the offer from the Elders to place the Haywood son into the dungeons, he refused. He stated that the armies needed him to lead despite his madness. Mogar was no King Raymond, but he was also no Mad King. He was what they needed at that time, but yet he was still not Michael. He was what the crown wanted him to be. He was the Warrior King and his time to fall had come.

 


	2. The Clothes of Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tournament is at its first stages of beginning and the Knights are readying themselves with their royal dress to commence. But the new King has a new order he wishes to issue upon one certain Knight...something that has never happened before and something that will change the Tournament in a way never thought possible. Will it aid the young Knight Free to learn just what power the crown holds?

                        One wall had been painted gold to show the proudness that their new king held, the other wall lined with the heads of creatures that plagued the land to show his strength, and the red carpet by which they now knelt upon was made to look more like fur than a tapestry to show the beast their king could be. That red color trailed to the middle of the room where steps went up to the golden throne that harbored the Warrior King on top of red cushions. It was here in this fiery lit room that they finally saw their once fellow knight in his full glory and never had any King before him looked so relaxed.

            Mogar sat atop his throne at a horizontal slant. His left leg crooked over the armrest and his right foot planted firmly on the ground; his back was pressed to the opposite armrest where his right elbow sat as well for his fist to hold up his head by his chin as the other hand stayed sprawled against his stomach. His hip was absent of his always present weapon, but only to allow for him to lounge in the large chair and give him the ability to relax comfortably. The diamond blade now hung from the top of the chair where it could be reached easily if need be; the blue of the handle matching the blue of the tattered and bloodied flag that hung opposite of it. Of course he’d sit between his two most prized possessions. Mogar had been a man who always knew what he wanted and always knew what was his…and he’d make sure everyone knew it too. That flag and that sword were his legacy, his life; and now the golden crown—clean of any blood—which sat on his curled locks was even more important to him in this moment because he now could show off to the others just how much he adored its power.

            “Arise,” Mogar’s voice echoed out in the large room and the knights all slowly did as they were asked; helmets removed from two and a hood down on another. He paused a moment to look the group over while they did the same for him; eyes of different colors sweeping across the room and the young king—except for one pair of green. Mogar’s eyes fell last on the once troublemaker of the knights, a dark eyebrow raising as he spoke again, “Sir Gavino.”

            Gavin’s head snapped up almost immediately and he could feel the eyes of the others on him before his own were even on the King, “Y-Yes sire?” He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so nervous, but bloody hell it was hard to look up at the man seated there. It had been eleven months since he’d been able to see Mi—Mogar and he had been more than right in saying the once knight had changed. Mogar had this different light about him that felt almost animal like instead of warrior like, but he knew better than to say anything out of turn…especially after the Mad King’s reign.

            “Is everything alright?” Mogar’s tone was indistinguishable to what feelings he was harboring, but the malice in his speech was almost obvious, “You look a bit pale.”

            “I’m fine, sire,” Gavin swallowed, “Just banishing foolish thoughts before the tournament.”

            Mogar’s eyebrow sparked at that, “Foolish?”

            “Yes,” Gavin didn’t take his eyes off of him and for the longest moment there was nothing aside from silence, but then the King was moving in his seat. Turning to face the group with both feet planted on the floor and he crooked a finger at the royal with a calm expression.

            “Come.”

            Ray shot him a look when he didn’t move and hissed under his breath, “Gavin, go.”

            Gavin blinked to snap himself from his nervous state and slowly he moved to the steps to ascend with his head held high, breath being held in with nerves. His thoughts fired around in his head like rabbits frightened by a noise which only made it hard to see straight. He needed to calm down, needed to breathe straight and remind himself that this was still Michael in some way. …Right?

            “Kneel.”

            Gavin had reached the throne without realizing and the voice startled him with a slight jump. His green eyes shot to Mogar’s face and the blank slate of emotion in his eyes made the noble feel sick inside, but still he slowly—and without breaking eye contact—kneeled down before their king. His head was the last to be bent forward as his arm rested upon the knee still raised. He had his eyes on Mogar’s boots and he was trying to keep even breaths, but the moment the feet shifted he squeezed his eyes shut.

            Unseen by him, Mogar had risen to stand and the white cape upon his back fell from the throne to bump against the back of his feet. He inhaled a deep breath and eyed the group which watched with calm or curious eyes, “I, as required by old decree and law, am required to welcome you to the Tournament by which will choose the next to sit upon the throne. This Tournament consists of many tasks and many trials to test you all to the best of your abilities.” He paused and took in another breath, stepping around Gavin who still knelt before the chair, “Each Royal family of the kingdom Urbem Gesits, or as better known to all, Stadt der Errungenschaften, is to be represented by a single son to whom will have equal chance and fair advantage in attempt to wear the crown. These tasks and or trials shall be issued by the ruling king, me. No task shall be duplicated and no task shall be without a winner. The first to arise with the Four Pieces of their families given to them shall be claimed victor. It is then he who will rule this Kingdom for a year’s term. Is that understood?”

            “Yes, my liege.” The five in the room responded as required, even the one kneeling behind the king.

            “Good,” he gave pause then, hands moving to clasp behind his back and under the cape, “Now please move to your given tapestries and ready yourselves for the first task.” The four nodded at him then turned and slowly Gavin moved to stand, but Mogar spoke as he did so in a voice only he could hear, “Except you, Sir Gavino. You stay right where you are.”

            Gavin flinched at the words, but slowly sank back down onto his one knee and stared at the red carpet which looked so finely woven and new. It had to be…the last carpet had been soaked in blood. _‘Thinking about the carpet will not help you stay calm._ ’ He bit his bottom lip and dared himself to look up and over his shoulder at Mogar, but he was met with his stare and instantly the knight turned his sight back to the carpet. His heart was jumping in his chest and his nerves were dancing. There had been a time when he could stand next to Michael and feel completely normal, warm even with a happiness he could never explain. But now. Now this was Mogar and Gavin feared him. He feared the man he’d once called his closest friend.

            “Sir Haywood ready and waiting, sire,” Ryan had turned his back to the tapestry harboring an image of his family’s emblem with a sword attached to his hip. Ryan was an image of grace with the height he stood at and the way he carried himself. Each knight being bestowed with a changing area and the right to change clothing to which he did, but his image was almost mirrored to when he ruled and Gavin didn’t need to see to know what it was. His white boots he wore up to his knees were clean of any dirt or blood—something that had changed since their last use—black pants to match the black of his two shirts that was crossed with faded designs that only showed in direct light. The shirt that covered his sleeves was plain and held no other look; it was the high collared vest which showed it and it shaped his face as a fur tuft of a short side shawl rested upon his left shoulder in a color of pure white and speckled with black spots. The last of his outfit was a plaid kilt held up by a black belt with a gold buckle. His image was shaped by his family’s culture, but darkened by his soul and Gavin hated the outfit. Hated the sight of it because of the memoires it held and somewhere inside the knight was grateful he didn’t have to see it again yet.

            “Sir Ramsey ready and waiting, sire,” Geoff was turned as well wearing the very outfit he too had ruled in and it was garb which held an advantage in some of the tournaments, but his place as the First King allowed for it be worn. Armor. It was faded green and covered all of his body aside from his head with places of black cloth which showed where the armor didn’t connect. It was a style of armor which was handed down the Ramsey line and made thin for quick movement, but stiff for protection. It looked polished and clean having not been worn in a year, but if one looked close enough they would see the kinks and areas that still showed where he had been hit. Hit by elements of nature or a blade, but still barely visible. He was asked by his family after every tournament if he wished for new armor, but the once king would deny and claim it would be wrong to compete in something that hasn’t been stained with his blood. The kneeling knight dared to look over at him and the man stood tall with a large pickaxe balanced by the handle upon his shoulder, opposite of the bandaged eye. His blue eye fell on Gavin momentarily and it screamed for him to look away, which he did.

            “Sir Pattillo ready and waiting, sire,” Jack faced the king in the garbs he had been wearing since rising, having never acquired the rights to claim a royal’s true outfit. His worked for him though. Red pants tucked into the black boots, a green tunic with a white swirl over a thicker black tunic; a brown belt around him to carry minor tools that his family bestowed to him prior to the first tournament. (His family being one of carpenters despite the royal standing.) His one other item having been given to him by King Ramsey was a Spartan helmet and iron collar piece; it was allowed into the fight due to it being given as a gift from a past king. His sleeveless outfit with triangular shoulders gave him a far more barbaric aura to him, but really Jack may have been one of the gentlest of them and it showed more so by his lack of attempt to truly win these tournaments. He was loyal more than anything. Loyal to the First King actually and all the knights knew it; the two had acquired a bond over time which they managed to place aside during the event, but in the end…he wouldn’t show up the drunkard. Gavin was normally his target of choice in these games, be it because the young knight was a trickster or be it because Jack disliked him: Gavin was not his favorite.

            “Sir Narvaez ready and waiting, sire,” Ray was the last of them and Gavin assumed it had to do with his wound, despite the assistance of being dressed. A King’s wound was never truly healed—hence Geoff’s eye—and it would continue to be a presence. Ray’s was unseen under his clothing and only ached more than anything. Some days though the pain proved to be too much for the young knight. He never said a word about it though, but Gavin knew. Just like he knew what Ray wore currently. He was the only of the knights to wear leather that could catch a shine no matter the lighting. Black laced up boots which stopped below the knees, gray pants to match the under shirt he wore and a black vest with a collar meant to have a scarf tucked into, but instead only the buttons of a different shirt—this one white—showed. He looked the part of a prince more than a knight and it had been the same thoughts Gavin had when he wore the crown. Leather elbow length gloves that could pick a rose without being hurt by a thorn had held the hands of many maidens to kiss politely. Ryan may have looked an object of grace, but Ray looked the only other true Royal in the room aside from Mogar. He always did. He was a Prince at heart…not a noble.

            Mogar was clad in yellow trousers that tucked into dark brown boots that folded over at his knees—the very ones Gavin has been glancing at to change from seeing only the red carpet—and a high collared brown jacket with blue detailed lines down the center front to separate the tan from brown. Blue strings attaching down the middle to keep it closed shut. He had yellow shoulder pieces which only attached to keep his white cape in place. Why white? Gavin’s thoughts had pondered it the moment he had seen it. Why had he not chosen the color of his family? The royal blue? Then again…the Jones family was never alright with the tournament and in turn refused to fully place their seal upon it. Even if their son was king. It was unlike the other families with their undying need to flaunt their trades and colors across the kingdom, so it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but still…Gavin wanted to know why the Warrior wouldn’t want to show pride in taking the throne for his family.

            “Sir Gavino,” Mogar spoke lightly and Gavin flinched again in surprise, the voice pulling him from his thoughts, “Prepare yourself.”

            “Yes, my liege,” Gavin turned while he rose and swiftly moved down the stairs, body screaming to flee that small space as quick as he could. He went to his tapestry and behind it to a door which was held open for him in order to retrieve the golden edged pickaxe that had been forged by his brother. It was the only thing he needed beyond his bow. But when he went back there he was immediately pulled further into the room by a woman who told him to undress and wear the clothes that were hanging for him. This…this was strange. He was like Jack, neither had rights to claim outfits for the tournament so why was it he had to change? Gavin hesitated.

            “King’s orders, Sir Knight,” the woman had unraveled his green scarf to toss aside and made another comment about doing it herself if he didn’t move. So he did with quick stumbling grace. He changed into the clothes with questions running in his head once again, but he stayed his tongue and donned what was told of him to wear.

The outfit was much different from his usual clothing, but it still wasn’t his own. He was clad in dark green trousers and a long lighter green shirt with white folds at the wrists, both articles of clothing were light material that seemed more right for wear outside of trials. He also placed leather straps across his chest that crossed at the center with a collar piece attached to the tops in an off-color green that covered most of the sides and back of his neck. Then finally he had a scarf resting over his clothing against his collar bone with the tails on his back.

He didn’t like this.

He didn’t like it at all.

            And he more so didn’t like it when he was trying to put his boots on only to have him be told otherwise and handed a different pair. A pair of gold felt knee highs with flat footed souls that stood out against the green, “Wot the bloody—”

            “Put ‘em on,” the woman said it hurriedly then left the room through an opposite door.

            Gavin did so without another word from his mouth…why in the hell was he supposed to wear these? Gold wasn’t a Free Family color; purple and green were. Gold was a secondary of the Family…Jones.

            Gavin scooped up the pickaxe next to the door and returned to the throne room with the words already leaving his lips, “Sir Free ready and waiting, sire.”

            All eyes turned to him and Gavin’s shifted about the room to the fellow royals who all stared at him with different looks of confusion or curiosity. Ray was the only one with wide eyes that seemed to scream with panic and worry at the sight of the boots, but Gavin skipped over that look to land his eyes on their King who was staring at him with that same blank expression. He wanted to ask, wanted to speak out of turn just to know why, but he held his tongue. He held it because the tournament was going to—

            “Before we start I wish to make a change of rules.”

            The room seemed to fall with even more silence as the words rolled off his tongue. _A change of rules._ That never meant anything good and it had shown the most when Ryan had ruled and now with Mogar as ruler, malice in his voice and emptiness in his stare…it worried the Free child.

            “Sir Gavino,” wide-eyes stared at the king from where he stood trying to keep calm and from shaking in his boots, “please step forward.”

            He hesitated. ‘ _Oh God, no._ ’ He was scared and full of thoughts which glued him to that spot. There was so many things that could happen in this moment and it terrified him right down to the bone, but he didn’t defy his king. No. He took his steps forward in careful stride with gold boots carrying him right to the bottom of the steps. His eyes stayed locked onto Mogar’s the entire time he moved, but the moment he was standing still he looked out at the other knights.

            “The rest of you take your places at the ready.”

            The four moved to stand a yard or so off from Gavin with weapons in hand; Ryan sheathing a simple iron sword to his hip, Jack with a battle axe attached to his back, Geoff resting the large pickaxe on his shoulder still, and finally Ray with a sword of his own in a black sheath with a red ribbon tied to the handle. They stood next to each other aside from an empty space between Ryan and Ray for where Gavin was to stand.

            Mogar waited till they were all motionless before speaking again, “The four of you will be the only ones to tend to the first task.”

            Gavin’s mouth opened ready to protest, but Mogar continued.

            “Sir Gavino is hereby stripped of his title as a Royal and title as Knight for the reasons being followed: He has pointed out he holds foolish thoughts,” Mogar was stepping down from the throne with each accusation, “Has proven that he is a fool. Lacks the proper swordsman skills to be a Knight. Continuously shows his lack of strategic thinking in the battlefield. The list carries on to other things for which we all know too true, but foremost,” he stopped next to Gavin at the bottom and looked at the side of his head since the man was too stunned in silence to look back, “his family has failed to bring me their Four Pieces and in turn their son must face punishment for it.”

            Gavin’s head snapped to face him and he winced at the burning flame in those brown eyes as the young king stared him down, daring him to speak up. He didn’t.

            “Gavino Free of the Family Free you are hereby denounced to the titled role of Court Jester and withdrawn from the first task of the tournament.”

            “Y-you can’t do that!” Mistake. Big mistake.

            That burning flame erupted into fire and a hand was lifted so fast that Gavin didn’t have time to register until he was lying on the ground with his pickaxe sliding across the floor and a tingling feeling in his cheek.

            “How _dare_ you talk out of turn, Jester!” Mogar’s voice roared throughout the throne room and three of the other four knights flinched with it, “How _dare_ you _tell_ me what I can and cannot do! I am your _King_ and you _will_ do as I say! My word is law, you insufferable fool, and it will be etched into stone before I let you tell me what I am allowed to do!”

            Gavin had landed on his arm and was resting on it as he stared wide-eyed up at the man towering over him. Fear struck him like a musician plucking a lute and never before in his life did he ever think he’d lose the one person he cared the most about just by opening his mouth. If there had been anything left of Michael inside the king he would’ve seen it, right? Would’ve seen that glimmer of light…but all he saw was a darkness that clouded him and harbored his soul. Mogar was a soul of anger and hate that was being thrust towards Gavin to keep him where he coward on the floor.

            “You will hold your tongue in my court and speak only when spoken to, is that understood?” Mogar was growling harshly with his words and staring hard down at Gavin who managed a slow nervous nod, “Speak so I know you do.”

            “I-I-I understood, my king,” Gavin’s voice was shaky and every nerve in his body told him to flee, but he knew that would do no good.

            Mogar turned back to the other four waving a hand towards them which had a servant running up with a silver tray that had four small black devices on it. Each of the knights took one and placed them into their left ears before standing at the ready again, “Your orders are simple: Go to the House of Free and retrieve their Four Pieces. One per knight. You are to return by sunrise tomorrow with your acquired piece. Any questions?”

            “One, sire,” Ryan spoke without pause after it was asked and his words came out like hot liquid that burned into Gavin’s soul, “Are we permitted to kill if we meet resistance?”

            Gavin’s heart stopped and he turned his head slowly to look over at the knight, but Ryan was holding a blank slate of a stare on the King that looked far too relaxed for a man who wished to murder a family. And in his staring Gavin realized that Mogar wasn’t answering him, Mogar was hesitating to answer…he was debating it. ‘ _No._ ’ He couldn’t let him consider it and so Gavin moved where he lied to be on a knee his head bowed low, “Sire, forgive me for breaking your rule of speaking out of turn, but I find that it needs to be spoken up about. My family doesn’t deserve death for failing to bring you their pieces. My brother has been ill over the year and it has consumed most of their time. Please do not judge them too harshly for their actions of forgetting.”

            Silence. That was what filled the throne room after the newly appointed Jester spoke, but he didn’t dare to lift his head to look into the brown eyes of his once friend. Finally though, after that long break of nothing, the King spoke up.

            “No,” he said it forwardly, “under no circumstances are you to cut down anyone within the walls of that home. Each man, woman, and child branded with the Free name is to be left unharmed. Now go before you waste more daylight.”

            “Yes, my King,” the four men spoke it quickly before all turning to leave the throne room in their different strides of character, only Ray shooting a finally look back at his two friends…worry dark in his eyes.

            Once the room was empty of the knights, the servants soon followed suit to set up the Watch Room for their King while also leaving said man to deal with the fool kneeled before him still.

            “Why do you choose not to listen to me?” Mogar’s voice was calm with the question and bearing nothing aside from that.

            It gave Gavin the small courage to look up at the man and was grateful to see he was still facing—and looking at—where the four had previous been, “It’s not that I don’t…I just…I didn’t want my family to be—”

            Mogar’s head whipped to the side, eyeing him hard with a growl in his words, “You think me so low to slaughter a whole family for a mere thing as forgetting?”

            Gavin’s mouth was frozen open and he couldn’t bring himself to respond which only made the king look angrier in the short period and the next thing he knew his arm was being grabbed and he was being hoisted onto both his feet with a violent pull; it placed him face to face with his king and Gavin bit his tongue as his nerves danced around.

            Mogar looked ready to yell, but then something changed in that face and a different look fell over it and the brown eyes behind thin frames lightened with what Gavin had thought originally hatred was now turning into…remorse. He slowly let go of the Jester’s arm and sighed lightly, “I can’t do this. I can’t…” He started shaking his head then turned away from Gavin all the while whispering things Gavin couldn’t hear.

            The fool took a step towards him and spoke timidly, “King Mogar…?”

            “Don’t call me that, Gav,” Mogar turned slightly so he could look at the other man, “I have a name.”

            Gavin’s chest tightened and his lips quivered ever so slightly with the need to smile with some sort of relief, but instead he only managed to get his name out, “Micool.”

            Mog—No.—Michael closed his eyes and inhaled a breath for a brief moment then opened them again to look at him, “I haven’t heard that name in a long while.”

            Gavin’s heart raced hard in his chest and he let his lips finally break into a smile that was tainted with sadness and hurt. He didn’t understand what was going on in those few seconds and he couldn’t bring himself to question it out loud or even question it in his head. All he could do was force himself to remember to breathe and to let that feeling of having his friend sink into him. This was Michael standing before him. Sir Michael Jones of the Family Jones and he was looking so hurt, so lost, and so broken that the jester’s relief and joy was short lived only to dip him into a vast pool of sympathy.

            Something wasn’t right and Gavin could see that now with Michael standing completely open in front of him and it pained him to think he had feared his friend, but that object upon his head had given him reason to fear him…

            The crown by which he wore once he bested everyone in the tournament.

            ‘ _The crown changes you in more ways than you could ever imagine._ ’

            Geoff’s words lingered in his head, but yet it didn’t explain why Michael hadn’t hesitated in cutting down their friend months ago. Could Gavin still somehow blame Haywood for it? Maybe in his ruling the mad royal had tainted his soul. Dark magic was very possible and a lot more common than the technologies which remained from the Days of Past. It could be possible that—

            “King Mogar.” His head snapped straight and he looked past Michael to where a member of the guard stood with his hand resting on his sword, “The Watch Room is ready.”

            “Good,” Michael’s tone and stature changed with that one word and darkness shrouded the man so quickly that Gavin could almost trick his mind into thinking what had occurred was all in his head; “Jester, come.”

            Gavin flinched a bit, but moved towards Michael just as he started to walk across the large room. They strode down a corridor that was completely empty aside from the two which allowed Gavin to steal a glance at the man slightly next to him, but as he did so the King spoke quietly.

            “I’m sorry I struck you and for that I will do what I can to explain later, but for now…just…” Michael turned his head as they walked, eyes showing that lighter side once more, “Just do all that I say and don’t take any of it to heart.”

            Gavin gave a nod at the words then whispered out softly, “I saw you try to kill Ray.”

            Michael flinched at the words, visibly flinched and he looked forward once more, “We’re wasting time.” He was gone again.

            He was there and then he was gone all because Gavin couldn’t bring himself to say anything beyond that, but it wasn’t his fault though was it? It couldn’t be. He was confused, unsure, and nervous to what Michael had to say. As of now it seemed this was all an act to make himself someone to fear, but what happened with Ray wasn’t acting…Michael had truly been in a moment of bloodlust.

            Or so Gavin thought.

            And the Jester thought many things.

            But most of those things were wrong…

            …and _that_ made the witch laugh.


End file.
